


Lara Johnson - Backstory (part 2)

by AgataVarano



Series: Scar [2]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Apologies, Arguing, Backstory, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25210471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgataVarano/pseuds/AgataVarano
Summary: Becoming better is never easy, especially when your demons are screaming louder and louder inside your head but no one seems to notice.
Relationships: Stephen Strange & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Scar [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826437
Kudos: 3





	Lara Johnson - Backstory (part 2)

**Author's Note:**

> • English is not my first language, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes.  
> • You can find more fics on my Tumblr @/let-me-write-my-life and my Instagram @/agata_varano.

_ You stole my sanity, I'll never be the same. Citizen Soldier (Hope It Haunts You) _

But her demons didn't appreciate the way she had treated them and came back roaring and screaming louder than ever that same night and again for weeks, months. Her conscience had never been so mean to her and Lara didn't sleep for days, tortured by her own mind.

Days weren't less hellish than nights. Leaving her past behind was hard, almost impossible when everything could become a painful reminder of what she had done, of what she had lost. 

Moreover no one around her seemed ready to trust her, not after what had happened, and she couldn't blame them. Not even she could trust herself.

Training with the sorcerer, Doctor Strange or however she was supposed to call him, wasn't exactly a dream either. 

Firstly, Lara had to admit Strange was right: she had no control over her powers. Probably denying them for years hadn't been a good idea and had resulted in an uncontrollable, destructive magic that she hated like her own life.

Knowing that she could destroy an entire city without even wanting it wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling. It was like wandering around the woods being completely on fire, feeling like a monster and having little to no desire of self-preservation.

Strange tried to help her, she guessed, he wasn't mean and Lara understood it, but being social wasn't exactly his thing. He expected her to open up with him, make him understand what was going on in her mind, but he was the first one to hide behind thick walls whenever he could, ignoring her for hours until they had to train.

The only comfort was the other sorcerer who lived with Strange, the one she had thrown into a window, that didn't treat her differently from other people: he ignored everyone with no distinction.

Lara would have tried harder to find a place in all those people's lives, if only she hadn't had to find peace in her own. 

Her problems with anxiety only got worse, often accompanied by violent panic attacks. Nightmares and mental struggles didn't hesitate to drag her down the same hell she had lived in for years. Having no idea how else to cope with the undying pain and sorrow, she let herself be devoured by her own demons. She found it impressing how easy it was to hide alcohol around the Sanctum, ready to tempt her in the middle of the night when nightmares wouldn't let her sleep. If drinking wasn't enough, she could always go back to her old friend self-harm: no one cared, no one noticed and she wasn't able to stop. It was perfect. 

Unfortunately Strange didn't agree with her. 

It had been a couple months after Lara had moved into the Sanctum and she was training with Stephen like every other day. Like every other day, she had no idea what she was doing. Like every other day, she had tried to control her powers. Like every other day, she had failed majestically.

"You just have to calm down, it's not that hard," he said in that tone which Lara could never understand if it was annoyed or not.

She clenched her fists in a desperate attempt not to burn everything down. "It's not hard  _ for you _ ."

He crossed his arms on his chest. "It's not hard for  _ everyone _ . You just have-"

"'You just have'! It's easy to say for you. You're the goddamn Sorcerer Supreme, you don't have this kind of problems!" She raised her tone at him, mad at how hypocrite his words sounded.

Stepping towards her, he pointed his eyes to her face, his expression now angry. "No, I don't, but at least I'm trying to help you."

"'Help me'?" She spit back, screaming at him with all the rage she had bottled up for weeks. "If completely ignoring me, always acting like I'm just an annoying burden hanging around and then expecting me to listen to you is your way to help me, then thanks but I don't need it."

Strange's expression turned sorry, but that didn't calm down Lara. She headed to the door, her fists clenched hard enough to hurt her palms with her own nails. 

He opened his mouth for a moment, tempted to say something, but no voice left his lips. He silently stared at the woman as she left the room and rushed upstairs.

Lara slammed the door of her room, leaning back against the wood and slowly sliding down until she was sitting on the cold floor. She let out a breath as she tilted her head back, staring at the white ceiling.

She felt bad, terribly bad and she couldn't help it. What was she even thinking when she had decided to accept Strange's help, forcing him to carry a burden he knew nothing about and rightfully didn't care about?

Curling up on the floor, she stared out of the window, the darkness of the night slowly covering the city. She waited until the neon light of the street lamps was turned on, then crawled to bed.

She woke up with a scream after no more than a couple of hours, moving so suddenly that she fell down on the floor. She got up on her hands and knees, her breath heavy and tears streaming down her face. Trying to calm down seemed impossible, it always did. As she focused on her heart beating faster and faster second after second, she didn't notice someone knocking on the door and carefully stepping in.

Whoever had entered the room turned the light on just enough not to trip over her. "Are you okay?"

Lara brought up her face to see Strange kneeling next to her, close but not enough to touch her. She shook her head. "No, I'm not, is this what you want to hear?"

Her unnecessarily bitter answer seemed to hurt the sorcerer, who moved his gaze to a casual point on the ground. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Feeling guilty was the last thing that Lara wanted to do in that exact moment, but she couldn't help it. She stuttered, trying to form a coherent sentence, then focused on the same point as the sorcerer. "Don't be, it's- it's my fault. I always mess things up." 

She sighed as she sat up. "I'm sorry for what I said today. You were trying to help me, I guess, but…" She moved her eyes to meet his. "It's hard, okay? And I don't know what to do. I just- I know I don't want to hurt any more people, but nothing else."

Strange let out a breath. "Well, that's something." 

His eyes darted to her wrists left uncovered by her shirt and barely illuminated by the weak light in the room. For the first time he realized her problems weren't just nightmares and uncontrollable powers.

When she felt his gaze on her, Lara was fast to cover her hands, her eyes falling to the floor.

"Lara." The man's tone was unusual to her. He wasn't annoyed, he wasn't angry. He was concerned. He had just pronounced her name for the first time in maybe days and it was out of worry. "If I open up with you," he said calmly, "can you promise me that you'll let me help you with whatever is going on in your head?"

Lara's lips opened, but she quickly closed them, not sure what to say as she stared at the floor.

"Please," he pleaded out, his voice lower than ever.

Lara sighed and finally looked up at him. "Fine, I promise."

And slowly, Lara took control of her life and, even more slowly, of her emotions. After two months, Lara was far from happy, but maybe she was a little closer. Sometimes she even slept at night and with time stopped drinking out of despair and boredom. After an even longer period of time, she stopped cutting her skin and crying herself to sleep. The last thing she achieved was control over her powers.

After months of training and work, she came to the conclusion that she didn't want to waste the life she had got back, she didn't want to run away anymore. 

She still felt responsible for the events of her life, for what she had done and what she had not done, she still had a little, strong voice in her head reminding her the monster she was, but now she was able to shut it down.

Taking the responsibilities for her actions, she decided to force others to do the same and the first thing she could think about was the Agency X. She made it her mission to take down the whole organisation, or at least try. She knew everything about them, she had trained with them, she had worked with them, she had lived with them. She could still remember names, faces, agents and she would have used that knowledge to defeat them.

As time passed, Lara didn't only find a mission to complete, she also found friends, people she could talk to, people she could rely on. After months, Lara came to the point where she could call Stephen and Wong worthy of her trust. Or maybe she could call herself worthy of theirs, she wasn't sure.

Everything was moving slowly around her, but it was moving, just like a machinery that used to be perfect but has been turned off for too long and now needs time to work again. She had earned a life worth living and dying for, full of missions, demons (metaphorically and not), magic and takeaway food, because apparently there isn't a course at Kamar-Taj on how to cook edible stuff.

But that relative concept of normality was soon to be damaged, as well as the Sanctum roof.


End file.
